DUDE!

I'm Baaaaackkkk....

2007-01-22T08:56:00.000-08:00

OMG, after 2 months of trying to figure out how to sign on to the new Google account, I'm finally back! I know, I'm obviously not very bright, but honestly I didn't try very hard. But Mom has been bugging me for a post, so here I am.

Kid News: K-man was December student of the month for his grade! To quote him: "I didn't see THAT coming." We are very proud that he's turned his delinquent self around to be a respectable citizen. Little One was Student of the Week for her class last week, and she feels she's very deserving since she's well-behaved anyway. She's a cheeky thing.

Go Karts: You'd think the season was over, but it's not... We went to FLA for the winter Nationals at Volusia Speedway. K-man finished 2nd in his race the first day, and finished 6th the second day after engine trouble. Little One finished 2nd in her race as well, and had a very good time. He had a big race this weekend at the indoor Kart place and finished 2nd for his age group for the Dirt Series, and 5th overall for his age group. K-man has his own website now, check it out!

Knitting News: I finished a scarf for my boss, finished tying in the ends of my MIL's sweater (a Lopi Lite pattern from Book #16, it's pattern #9) and I have swatched the most gorgeous yarn from Colinette that was a Christmas present from Wendy and Carrie. The link doesn't even justify the gorgeous color of this yarn--the olive green is deeper, and the sparks of color are vibrant. It will become a hat for moi!

Fish News:
Spot finally died, the ungrateful little bugger. He had a gorgeous toilet-side ceremony attended by me (the kids were at grandma's). The others are looking very healthy. I'm not buying another fish, either. Remind me of that now and then.

WOW!

2006-11-25T05:05:00.000-08:00

I have been resisting change since the beginning of time. I'm one of those that keep the same sneakers because they are 'broken in'. Blogger has been begging me to change over to their new format for months and I've blithely ignored them, until today. Finally, I decided to change over to the new blogger format, and so far, I'm impressed. They give me font choices (though none of them are exactly exciting. It's still a choice). I get font size choices! See that? I can make things big or small, or in different colors! Though I'm resistant to change I do like having choices, since in my home my only choice is between putting the dog out NOW or cleaning up some one's mess NOW. The senile dog usually wins.

This weekend happens to be camping for the cub scouts, which means the menfolk are sleeping in the wilderness and doing muddy boy-type things. It's supposed to be around 32 degrees tonight, so we'll see how much they complain when they get back.

Little One and I are having 'girl time' which means at the moment I get to watch cartoons while she plays in her room. If I turn the cartoons off I'll get yelled at. Other than that, things are quiet. I like quiet and changeless. Unless the change means I'll get font colors!

The Dog's POV

2006-11-24T08:42:00.000-08:00

POV is point of view, for you non-writerly types. Yesterday the dog celebrated his 12th birthday (he was a Thanksgiving Puppy). Here's his take on it:

8AM: I woke to children pressing their faces in mine and singing this horrid song. Then THE ONE I WORSHIP joined in--I can never fault her for bad singing--but it definitely made me thankful I am losing my hearing.

9AM: More off-key singing. THE ONE I WORSHIP fed me bones to ward off the headache brewing in my skull. I went out to escape the tone-deaf children. Dammit, it's raining out, so there's not a single squirrel to chase and now my butt is wet. And to make me more miserable, the yellow-bus-thing isn't coming. THE ONE I WORSHIP said so. :::sigh::: Back inside.

Noon: I have napped, dreamed of rabbits, and was woken by THE ONE'S mate to be petted. I think there's a conspiracy afoot.

3:00 The Yellow-bus-thing isn't coming to deliver the children because they are still here. Singing. To me. ::sigh::: If I were a bad dog, I would rip their vocal cords from their throat but THE ONE loves them for some reason. I must stay on THE ONE'S good side. I will accept bones from the children.

5:00 THANK my lucky paws, they are all leaving and going to that place called 'grandma's'. Though I like GRANDMA's because there is catfood and other delights, I am glad I don't have to go out into the rain and listen to more singing.

8:00 They have returned. The pups are going to bed, and no one is singing. They must have gotten it out of their systems at Grandma's. Grandma has lots of squirrels to chase. Maybe they did that. THE ONE has sat next to me and told me a story. I liked the petting and cuddling, though I have no idea what she was talking about. Even THE ONE'S mate seems happy. THE ONE has promised me a WALK!, but I think she means tomorrow. I'm tired, anyway.

Flipping Fish and Banquets

2006-11-22T08:42:00.000-08:00

My mom wanted to know why I knitted if it drove me so insane. I have to admit, usually I find it quite enjoyable. I'm not good at knitting new stuff, though. Like the socks. Some of the patterns aren't quite what I want, so I have to modify them enough to make them perfect for me. Unfortunately, I have huge feet.

We spent the weekend very busy with lots of different things. I had a craft show to drag my stuff to (thanks to another mom who watched it for half the day while I worked), then there was the racing banquet, and lots of other things going on. K ended up as Rookie of the Year for our club, a great honor. Both kids got huge trophies and (almost) everyone was happy. The Little One is very odd about people and crowds and stuff. We used to take her to Thanksgiving Dinner at my parent's in FL and I don't think they saw her for the first two years. She'd hide until dinner was done then come out and I'd feed her a bowl of something.

In other news, we're teaching the fish tricks. Well, I'm trying to, anyway. The biggest goldfish is silver with a huge red bulge on his head. He's very deformed looking and floats around like a bus amongst little taxi cabs. Because of his big head he's able to flip over easily, so he tends to get caught in the currents and do barrel rolls, end-o's (tail over head flips) and corkscrews.

DH didn't believe me that Nemo (the babysitter named him--we were calling him Big Brain) could do barrel rolls, so I stood next to the fish tank and coached Nemo through his paces. The damned fish did every roll BUT a barrelroll, then he'd get bored and go the other side of the tank. When I walk up the stairs, he comes rushing over thinking he'll get fed, so when he got bored I'd stomp stomp on the stair and he'd rush over and begin to flip. After about 15 minutes the damned thing finally did a barrel roll. Thank goodness.

Happy Thanksgiving a day early! We're going to try to catch "Alice's restaurant" on the radio at noon. I hope it's on in your neck of the woods!

Knitting and Death

2006-11-14T10:01:00.000-08:00

Yes, you read that correctly. This could mean that I'll croak if I have to knit one more scarf (two down, two half way done). It could mean that I've been sentenced to knit until I die (not a horrid fate at all). But however, it refers to about one minute, the amount of time it would take for me to die if I was stabbed in the heart by a knitting needle.

Gory, I know. The conversation came up when I was knitting in the dark on a road trip. Yes, it's possible to do because you can feel the yarn split and all that. Plus this was a scarf on huge needles. How can you mess up?

So after my friend asked if we skimped on electricity, I informed her that I would knit in the dark on the way to visit in my mom when she lived in NH. Of course, this was after DH and I had a huge battle about the fact that we could crash and I could be impaled on my needles and croak.

So me, being curious and ever-the writer, asked my friend (a doctor) how long it would take to croak on a knitting needle. Her reply was probably a minute, maybe a little longer.

Now, to those that think a minute isn't long, you're wrong. Oatmeal in the microwave takes about a minute to cook. When my camper exploded while we were driving, we had less than 30 seconds to get out. Let me tell you, that was the longest half-minute of my life. And knowing me, I wouldn't be saying good-bye to the world, I'd be looking at my watch screaming, "You were WRONG! See? It's been 1 minute 45 seconds and I'm not ready to move to the white light!"

But as you can see, I'm still here. No knitting accidents, thank goodness. Now to get to work on the scarf.

Updates Galore!

2006-11-06T06:00:00.000-08:00

My my, I haven't posted in eons. Mom even emailed me to say, "Blog so I know what's going on!"

Racing: Was postponed from last weekend to this weekend because of a huge rainstorm (the remains of Paul or some tropical thing from California--that didn't sound very good, did it? I don't know if I want Paul remains coming here anyway). So instead we carved pumpkins.

Racing went AWESOME, the boy-child's new kart arrived and he raced like a little demon. He ended up 4th for the entire weekend (they do a points system for 3 feature races). He won his first money and was so excited (except he had to split it with Dad). He also learned a bunch of things, which was good. I was so proud because it was a true regional race, with top-notch competition. It was awesome.

I have to give a special shout-out to the Jackson's and the Iovinos for their hospitality. They had big heaters, kart scales, a microwave and hand warmers that saved the day for each of us at some point in the weekend. The Iovinos had quite the bachelor pad, with a grill, microwave and quite the assortment of food (steaks and burgers, dudes). I'm thinking we'll steal some of those ideas for the next race.

The Girl Child, as usual, amazed everyone. She only had two races, was dead last in the first one, but she had a good time. Unfortunately, she was timid about passing kids, so even though she was fast she was last (see, Ricky Bobby was wrong--you can be fast and still be last, if you don't pass).

The second race, she approached the first car, and I told DH, "She's going to pass!" He said, "Nah, just watch." And she proved Daddy wrong by blowing by the kid. Then she passed the next, and the next, until she was fourth. She almost had third at the line, too. It was a neck-and-neck finish. She thinks she was second (it's hard for them to keep track of where they are) so we let her believe that.

Knitting: I triumphed over the sock, but I still had to fix it. I also made myself another pair of socks, but I didn't like the toe. So I have three socks I don't like, am starting a fourth. I also worked on 2 presents with the Girl-child. She's making scarves (or rather, she does a row, I fix it, then I do a few rows).

The Old Dog has Lymes Disease. The poor dude has been hobbling about but is feeling better since the beginning of his antibiotics. He can even get into the car now. We went to Dunkin Donuts this morning and I got the girls to give him munchkins for getting into the car. He was stoked.

I think that's about it. Today I have to drag the kids to the dentist (though they actually like going). I have to hit Walmart and buy daffodil bulbs for the kids to plant at school, and tomorrow is a day off. They get two this week. I may have to invest in duct tape to strap them down so I can get some work done.

The Dude That Said...

2006-10-23T09:38:00.000-07:00

"Blondes have more fun," should be smacked. I'm NOT having fun. Not one bit. Perhaps the blondes that this dude observed had:

1) Misread the instructions to something really fun, like how much Laughing Gas to sniff. They obviously didn't misread the pattern to their sock knitting, or they wouldn't be having fun. It's really not fun trying to rip out a provisional cast-on. Not one bit.

2) The Blondes must have had a housekeeper. I don't have a housekeeper, and I'm not looking forward to cleaning out the camper bathroom so we can go away this weekend. If I had a housekeeper, I'd send her out there. I'd also have her fix the sock, too.

3) The blondes did not own goldfish. Definitely not.

4) The blondes also did not have to purchase groceries, nor did they have to put them away (see #2 above). I have groceries in bags all over my kitchen floor. I've tried to use psychic powers to get them put away, but it's not working. I think the Observed Blondes might have psychic powers as well.

5) The Blondes were rich. Or had Sugar Daddies. Or won lotto. I am definitely not rich, don't have a Sugar Daddy, and have not won lotto. I want to buy more yarn. I don't have tons of money to buy all the luscious yarn I want. And Milk Duds. I'd love to buy a huge truck load of Milk Duds. And other candy. Yes, money would be nice.

So that's why I'm miserable. I have to clean, deal with fish, put away groceries and I WANT CANDY.

Pass the hairdye. I'm going platinum blonde and see if that helps my case any.

The Cursed Pets

2006-10-22T17:00:00.000-07:00

Yes, those pets are at it again. First, the senile dog has Lymes disease. The poor guy can't even lift a leg to pee. He has to point his 'parts' at the tree and sort of twist his torso to get the job done. He also can't jump into the back of the station wagon, which is indeed a horrid fate in his old eyes. So he's on medication now, and feeling better. Still not peeing on trees like the man-dog he is, but he was able to get into the car for a ride to pick up K-man at a friend's. Indeed, a great thing.

Second, the fish are sick. Yes, the damned things are more trouble than they are worth. But this time, it's not their fault. I bought two things two weeks ago: a larger filter (yay!) and a new pleco. I know why people end up with STDs now when dating. They look at that handsome guy and think, "there's no WAY something that fine could be carrying diseases." The pleco was a fine looking fish. Nice spots, a cute wiggle to his tail. But about a week later, the goldfish started living at the bottom of the tank and itching on stuff. One of them would go inside the sunken ship and wriggle all around until his tummy was all raw. Poor critter.

So I did a little research, and lo and behold, they have ick, an external parasite that ends up looking like white grains of salt all over fins and the body. So now I get to change their water, 25% every day and give them their medicine. They are looking better, and have stopped itching. Yay!

You're probably wondering why I didn't quarantine the fish before putting him in the tank...The other small tank is occupied by Mocha the cyclops goldfish. If I put him back in the big tank, the mean beasties would kill him, and the small tank is too small for the pleco too. Plus Spot looked so darned healthy (banging head...) No worries for the frog, though. I did move him to the small tank with Mocha (I didn't see any research that stated frogs get Ick-so far they're fine).

So those are the cursed pets. Thank goodness we don't have any more than that. Oh, the cows are fine. They're the only ones that are truly well (crossing fingers).

New Hobby And Old

2006-10-21T13:11:00.000-07:00

I have a new hobby. Well, maybe not me...It's more like, the beasts have a new hobby. Take a guess what it is...soccer? No, way to suburban. Cow tipping? No, they're way too small for that (and I don't think the cows would allow for tipping).

You done guessing? It's....fishing.

Yes, fishing. I know, it sounds absolutely silly, but it's actually not a bad hobby. The kids practice casting, and have gotten pretty good at it. Last time we went I played Suduko (LOVE IT). This time I played with the Tamagochi--we're on the 3rd generation brat now.

Little One was actually very good at casting her little plug thing (it's a heavy thing with no hook that only catches pond weeds--it's called a plankton plug because it's a Sponge Bob thingie. IT is turquoise, has arms legs and one huge cyclops eye). Poor K-man put a huge fake worm on his hook, didn't stick it on there good and it went flying across the pond when he cast.

The DH informed me I wasn't allowed to collect anything they caught, which was fine with me. Though I do have a fear of taking the things OFF the hook (I can put worms on). HOwever, the last few times we went we only caught trees, a rope, the inner sole from a shoe and pond weed). This time, K ALMOST caught a fish. It took half of his neon pink lure thingie and jumped out of the water. Little One caught Pond weed (which she called sea weed with great glee) and she managed to look very surprised and impressed every single time she caught it.

Tommorrow is a day OFF, no racing. Which means I can settle again into my old hobby of knitting. I'm working on a scarf of darkish green casmere blend wool--very soft yet light. I just finished one third of it, but I need more yarn. I'll start the other one while the yarn comes in, same casmere blend in light blue. If blogger were pleasant, it would post my pictures. Since it's not, you'll have to imagine the scarves (only two mistakes on this one! Go me!).

Last RACE!

2006-10-16T06:44:00.000-07:00

So yesterday was the last day of racing for the points season. Now, that doesn't mean we're DONE. There's one more big regional race, then Nationals in December. It's a never-ending thing, this racing. I'm not sure if I like that (though I love my children, and they like it).

I'm sure you're dying to know how we did...I'd post a picture, but Blogger won't let me, evil trolls. Because the picture I had would have shown you EXACTLY how the boy finished...

HE WON!

Great race, too. He did clean passing, got out in front and stayed there. I was very, very proud.

The Little One raced well, too. She's now gotten to the point where she stays on the lead lap for the entire race. She led one lap and was second for 2 other laps, so she has improved a lot. She also loves to help in the snack shop, selling stuff and trying to get free candy out of them for helping. So it was a great year for her as well.

Damn, I really wish they'd post the picture for you...it was a great picture!

Famous Last Words...

2006-10-09T20:20:00.000-07:00

You know those words, the ones that doom you to an eternal life of misery and doom (no, it's not 'I Do'). It's those phrases like, "Wow, I can't believe you didn't break that yet," or "I can't believe how good you're being!" Yeah. You know it.

This weekend, K-man had a friend sleep over. Little one had the neighbor child over to play. The friend's dad called, and I happily said, "Yes, they're doing great. Playing well together, though I suspect with as much as they're laughing, they're probably doing something inappropriate. But no one has come in bloody yet..."

Yes, those are the famous last words.

A few moments later, the neighbor child comes in, complaining of bleeding from a lost tooth. I am on the phone with MIL and internally cringing. I HATE LOST TEETH. I hate that they wiggle, that they bleed and get all gooky... The toothfairy is one unlucky lady as far as I'm concerned. Teeth are GROSS. So I tell her to wait a moment, hang up and turn to discover one heck of a bloody child.

"That's from a lost TOOTH?" I shriek, and run to get wet papertowels. If there's anything I hate more than loose teeth it's BLOOD. And this somehow involved blood and teeth, though I couldn't see any missing tooth. "Where's the tooth?" I ask as I hand her wet papertowels.

"I don't know."

"So how did this happen?"

"I don't know."

"How can you not know?" I hand her more towels an arm's length away, and cautiously inspect her teeth from a distance. "I don't see any missing teeth. Are you sure you lost a tooth?"

"I think so."

I look again. "I don't see anything missing." I breathe huge sigh. "I think you bit your lip." The bottom lip is bloody. Gross, but not involving teeth. This is getting better. However, no one knows how it happened. I shake my head--kids are strange.

So after a bit, the blood stops, she goes outside, the kids go to collect fruit roll-ups from grandma's. The neighbor child goes home afterward. Her mother calls 30 seconds after, wanting to know why the poor thing has TWO BROKEN TEETH.

After much screaming and yelling on my part, I finally discover the truth. The neighbor girl tossed a rock at the friend, the friend threw one back and hit her in the face with it. And the neighbor child didn't want to tell me because she would get in trouble for throwing the rock to begin with. My children didn't throw the rocks, but they didn't come in and tell, which is just as bad. I apologize profusely, ground the remaining children (they wanted to ride dirt bikes) and call MIL to update her on the tooth saga. And called the friend's dad to tell him I was wrong, and there was blood involved after all.

The neighbor child ended up with bond-o or whatever on the teeth. I know I didn't see broken teeth when I examined her (despite my cringing and disgust at the blood, I did look carefully. Honest.) We think the rock cracked the teeth, and the fruit roll-ups yanked them out. In any case, 4 children will hopefully never throw rocks again, and I'll never say anything that just might backfire and end up with blood and teeth and icky things.

I'm For Sale!

2006-09-08T17:57:00.000-07:00

Or my books are at least! I spent last winter working on 5 short non-fiction ebooks and the client let me keep a bi-line on them. It's so freaking cool to see my name in print, not once, but FIVE times! Go have a peek at my books!

I'm Baaaccckkkk....

2006-09-05T08:50:00.000-07:00

I can't say I'm better than ever yet, seeing I'm missing parts and still sore. But I survived the surgery, weaned myself off the narcotics and am still in residence on my couch. I'm hoping to be all better by Friday, but we'll see.

Remember my petty complaint about wanting my own crisis? Well, DH healed up nicely but Mom ended up in the hospital for her innards. She sounds well when I talk to her, and as she says, "they're all in an uproar over nothing." Uh-huh. We'll see there, too.

I'm busy watching The View, now with Rosie O'Donnell. I can't say I enjoy it now...anyone else see it?

That's about it, I think it's time to take a nap. I'll be back soon!

Not To Be Petty...

2006-08-23T19:02:00.000-07:00

But for just ONCE in my life, I want my own crisis or heck, my own good thing all to my self. This time it's a mini-crisis I have to share. But just so you understand the timeline of sharing my life stories...

When I got married, I visited my mom on my honeymoon to discover my sister was getting a divorce.

When I found out I was pregnant with my first child (the same day), my BIL was getting a divorce.

When I was pregnant with my second child, my paralyzed on one side and mentally ill father was living with me until 2 weeks before the baby popped out. I was ready to run away and join the circus after that stint.

Now I am having my gallbladder out--minor surgery, in and out in one day, scheduled nicely so everyone is submitted to the least amount of stress. My DH (and I'm not thinking DEAR here)has severe diverticulitis (which means his tummy hurts like a raging bitch with a knife twisting and all that) and just may be faced with surgery.

Now, damn, that's just plain rude. I'm not sure I should be blaming the poor DH because it's not like he planned to feel icky. He hates going to the doctor, and if he's calling me wanting a doctor's phone number I know he's in a ton of pain. I'm one to go and 'get it checked' sooner than later because I am Las Vegas for germs--once they get going in my immune-free system they're partying like it's 1999 again. It takes a patty wagon of antibiotics to round those naughty suckers up, all the while they're screaming, "What happens in Trish's body STAYS in Trish's body!"

So I'll keep you updated on that.

In other news, we have new fish, Houston. That's really LONG post, but let's just say the Tank Of Death is in prime time, waiting to claim the next victim already. I'll update you on that tomorrow.

I'm going to write a little naughty ditty to sell. I've become a sad, lonely 'ho for money these days. A pathetic, petty 'ho with a nasty gallbladder and a sick hubby. If I could drink, I think I'd be best friends with Jose Cuervo. Night night.

RIP

2006-08-09T16:45:00.000-07:00

The fish tank of death has claimed yet another life...

Today we had a lovely, toilet-side ceremony for Spot the Pleco (those algae eating fish). He was a good fish, and diligently ate all of the algae on the sides of the tank until we had a pH problem (poor little guy probably thought he was living in vinegar). He is survived by Summertime II the frog and Zoom and Multi the goldfish. May he rest in peace in an algae filled pond up there in the sky.

My Third Child...

2006-08-09T05:18:00.000-07:00

Actually my fourth child, since the senile dog considers himself the first born...Is a Tamagochi. It's named Tally, it's a girl, and at this point it looks like a worm with a clown nose and mustache (it morphs every cyber year or so--two days ago it looked like a black chocolate kiss with arms and legs). If you don't know what I'm talking about, Tally is one of those little mechanical keychain toys where you get a cyber pet to feed, clean up after and play with, so it won't die. Well, K-man has one, and it's not dying on my watch.

Unfortunately, it's now an obsession because the maternal instincts won't let go and allow the kid to just KILL IT. It would be a probable thing, because every time I pick it up it's hungry and crying it's eyes out because it's sad from neglect. I don't like crying, hungry things-it makes me nervous, like the Tamagochi police might come and take custody of the thing. So I check it to see if it's hungry (he likes sushi!) I check it to see if it has pooped. Yes, it leaves this big stinky pile in the corner, and if you don't clean it it gets sick and you have to take it to the doctor for a shot.

It goes to bed at 9:00 at night, so Sunday after the races (8:54ish) I was in high demand. To DH: "Go out and get Tally from the camper." Him: "Why?" Me: "Because it goes to bed at 9:00 and I have to feed it, play with it and make sure it doesn't crap before bed or it will be sick in the morning." He blinked, and shuffled out to retrieve the thing, because he's slightly germaphobic, and the thought of it sleeping in crap, cyber or not, was probably too much to bear.

Even RIGHT NOW, as I type this, I am inquiring about the damned thing. K-man is in the living room now, checking on Tally's needs (and letting the senile dog out for the fifth time today. For some reason, he is acting like our house needs a revolving door on it, like a hotel). It's still asleep in it's little bed, snoring Zzzzz's in a crap-free environment.

My only hope in live is that the thing will grow up and find a mate, have it's own egg and move away. YES, even Tally will find a mate. And if it doesn't, you can ask the Matchmaker to set it up with something (nothing like a little cyber arranged marriage) so it can grow and leave the nest. I'm hoping it takes less time than 18 years because I don't know how much more of this stress I can handle. I'll let you know when to send shower gifts for my fourth child.

At It Again...

2006-08-08T08:28:00.000-07:00

Only a few weeks left over at Tawny's for a drawing of handsome margarita glasses that I painted! The date she's drawing says Aug. 31, but I'm having surgery that day and for some reason, I don't picture the surgeon running out to the post office with the package for me. I think we're doing it a few days sooner, so get your name in the hat! You'll have gorgeous glasses to celebrate the Labor Day holiday, and you'll get news about Tawny's books--cool deal all around.

She's still picking on me, that Julie! I did issue an apology on her blog comments for stating she went Mel Gibson on me.

Okay, so maybe you didn't go Mel Gibson on me. I apologize. However, I did picture you with blue hair dye and waving a size 13 Ebony needle screaming, "FREEDOM" as I wrote my blog.

And indeed, after reading what you did to the blue shimmer, I am even more concerned for your state of mental health. If I lived closer, I'd give you an IV of margaritas, a fistfull of dollar bills and drag you off to a Chippendale show.

In case you don't know what she did to her Blue Shimmer Sweater, knitted on size zero needles...she committed yarnicide. It was Madame Theaker, in the living room, with a knife (sounds a little like CLUE, doesn't it?)

Today we are just hanging around. The neighbors must have come and dropped off their dishes in my sink because I have no recollection of using that many over the weekend. Unless the senile dog started cooking. Which would be very interesting...At least he'd know who's hair is in the food when he finds it. He's shedding again, getting ready for his winter coat already. Silly dog.

SHE'S PICKING ON ME!!

2006-08-07T19:51:00.000-07:00

OMG, so I innocently post a few comments to Julie's blog and she goes all Mel Gibson on me. :::sniff sniff::: I swear, her baby and cat have joined together, reprogrammed the singing doggie thingie she has pictured on her blog, and have begun to brainwash her. I feel very, very sorry for her (and the rest of us, too, if the baby and the cat succeed in taking over the world, we're all TOAST!)

Today is my sister's birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY PIGGIE! Her name is actually Dawn, but when I was little PIG was the worse thing I could come up with to call her as a taunt. Now I can think of a lot of other things, but as a mature adult we don't call our sisters names (plus she hasn't pissed me off in decades).

She happens to call me Chickie, because when I was a junior in high school I dressed up as a sort of 'trashy' punk rocker, wearing a trashbag mini skirt and attire. We stopped to get coffee at the local store and this wino in the store said, in a gravelly voice, "Hey, CHICKIE, come here!" And I promptly fled the scene.

The hat I mentioned is finished, and it fits! I had to rip it out and restart but it's lovely. K-man was impressed and wore it around at breakfast.

And racing...let's just say I'm glad the day is OVER! Any day that starts with me screaming at children for putting on SCHOOL CLOTHES to go to the dirtiest place on earth is NOT a fun day. Regional race on this Saturday, and I've conned the DH into sleeping over at the track (I have no clue where it is, but it's in NY near the VT border) and then doing something as a FAMILY that doesn't involve DIRT or GAS or TIRES. K-man immediately pipes in with, "Let's go to an Adventure Landing type place (an amusement park in FLA) and race go-karts!" NO NO NO, silly child. I guess he didn't get the, NO DIRT, GAS OR TIRES part.

We shall see how the rest of the week goes. I'm definitely on a back to school count down...

Hotter Than Hades

2006-08-03T18:45:00.000-07:00

It's hotter than hades here. Hot enough that when the kids tell me their doing tatoos, I tell them to have fun without checking to see if they're making REAL tatoos or the temporary kind. It's just too damned hot. It's sad when a trip to the store is gilded bliss because there's A/C there, and all you want to do is linger over the display of corn butterers because it could waste an extra 30 minutes. Tomorrow is supposed to be cooler, though. We'll see.

In other news, we went, we raced, we broke stuff and came home with fifth. It was one of those days like when you go to the circus and the clown car pulls up to evict 20 millon clowns. So that was that.

I've been knitting a hat. The first hat was too big...this hat is looking too small. If my friend Julie were about, she'd smack me and tell me to gauge my work. Which is SORT of did, but I can't count. When she finally battles her baby gates maybe she'll give me some advice. But until then, I'm knitting a hat. For someone. :::grin::::

Lots o' NEWS!!

2006-07-29T06:58:00.000-07:00

I have tried three times to post this past week, but between thunder storms arriving and blogger's unusual lack of promptness and speed, it didn't happen quite like I wanted. So here's try three, again, for you all to see.

First, this is difficult to write because my son is running about the kitchen giving himself a wedgie. And enjoying it. I swear it's the heat.

Sales galore! CONGRATS to my friend Stacey for her first sale to Harlequin historicals!! GO STACEY!

My friend Leslie sold another book as well (I'm not sure if I mentioned her Triskelion sale or not, she also sold a short story)--I think she's out of material by now to sell, she's sold so much. LOL. Look for her first sale PRICE OF DISCOVERY out August 1st at Samhain Publishing. I'm sure she has a link for pre-purchasing her novel at her site!

Today is GH day, and my sister writers Mary, The Goddess Athena, Leslie, Stacey, Anna, Beth and Tawny are all up for awards at tonight's Golden Heart ceremony. GO LADIES!!!!!

Tomorrow is racing. K-man is raring to go. Little One had to give up the Furby for Puppy Surprise because Furbys are discontinued. She's heartbroken, let me tell you.

That's enough for one day. I'm off to the bank!

Lazy Monday

2006-07-24T07:19:00.000-07:00

OOoh, my Monday is pretty sweet so far. Grandma took the kids overnight for a sleepover. Since she's a sucker for punishment, she has all of the grandchildren and a friend over. Silly grandma. Unfortunately, because there were no children to attend to the senile dog's needs, he got me up to feed, water and turn him out for his morning potty. Of course, he didn't want these items at the same time. He'd wait until I fell back asleep and then poke me with his long wet nose again. He's sleeping now, I should go over and poke him a few times.

Racing was AWESOME! Little One earned her Furby! In case you didn't know, I bribed her with a Furby or a purple puppy if she kept up with her friend Kelsey. Now, you may think this is mean, making a little kid go fast. Let me tell you, I have dirty laundry that can drive faster than that girl of mine. I'm afraid she's going to get sideswiped by one of the faster kids, so I decided to get her up to speed to put a little bribe out there. So she earned her Furby because not only did she keep up, but she PASSED Kelsey on the last lap!

K-man had a good race day, with a fourth place finish. He spun himself out the last lap but was happy trying to steal second position and spinning than settling for third.

The MIL sweater is almost DONE! I'm down to the neck ribbing. As soon as it's done I'll get Julie to show me how to post it. I'm thinking about the next project now.

And I'm working on Men in Belly dance. Yes, men dance too. It's interesting and a little scary.

That's it for Monday. I promise to start blogging more again. It's hard in summer, let me tell you.

Hurray!

2006-07-19T11:40:00.000-07:00

We had a great weekend of racing. K-man got his first win! Out of four races, he finished first, second, third and fourth, for an overall finish of second place. He brought home this honking huge trophy--if Julie ever shows me how to load pics, I'll show you.

Today was a most awesome day so far. I painted lovely margarita glasses for my newly published friend Tawny Weber. She's having a drawing for them, so go to her website and see what you have to do to win those beauties. I figured out how to load pictures into the computer from the camera and shipped them off.

Then I grocery shopped. Which doesn't sound exciting, but I did it WITHOUT KIDS. There was no screaming and yelling, begging, pleading, and threats. Not a one. I did warn the grocery boy I might start yelling at him just to make the experience seem more 'normal', and he laughed.

I have written 2 articles about lawn care--have 5 more to do. Rabbit manure has more nitrogen than cow or chicken manure, FYI. I imagine that's why the TelleTubbies have such lovely lawn on their show--if you haven't seen them, they have rabbits hopping about everywhere.

On the knitting front--yes, I've started knitting again. I'm finishing a sweater for my MIL that I started when one of the kids was an infant. So it's at least 5 years old. I'm up to the neck part, which is pretty fun, changing colors. When I figure how to load pics, I'll show you.

AND...That's about it. It's been hotter than hell here--I'm sure I saw the devil standing on the street corner yesterday afternoon. I'm busy feeling happy in the semi-heat of 85 degrees and moderate humidity.

Bye until later!

Well, Crap.

2006-07-15T05:04:00.000-07:00

That last post was pretty crappy, wasn't it? I did really try to upload the pictures (because I know you're dying to see my bananas) but I can't figure it out, despite the depth of knowledge and smarts and brains that I possess. I have put a holler out to my right-hand woman, Julie to help me post the pictures (which means I whine and grovel in a pathetic email).

Today is the first day of two day racing at the track. The kids are excited--Little One because she can see Kelsey her friend, K-man because he's gonna kick big kid booty with the kart. We shall see.

I spent last night baking cookies for the event (at 11 pm, after a skinny dip in the kiddy pool that left me refreshed and ready to bake). I got to see Jimmy Kimmel (the ultimate guilty pleasure, because he's on at 12am). He had a very plausible reason for the public not seeing TomKat's Suri baby yet: Tom sold her to the devil.

Yes, Jimmy Kimmel has decided that at some point in his career, Tom made a pact with the devil to give him his first child if he became famous (this was way before Risky Business). So years pass, no kids. Tom adopts, the Devil shakes his head. "Pop out a kid, Tom." So he gets Kate pregnant and they give the baby to the devil to thank him.

For some reason, this sounds sadder and more insane at 8:00am then it 12:00 am. We'll have to chock that up to the scent of cookies and the hour.

Slacker Alert!

2006-07-10T05:04:00.000-07:00

OMG, I can't believe I haven't blogged in a week. What a slacker. I'm sure you all thought I finished my ark, loaded up the animals (without the mosquitoes and squirrels, and no moles for Julie) and left. Nope. I'm here, busy sulking.

Why, you ask? First, last week was one of THOSE weeks, where nothing went really wrong, but nothing went really right, either. I ended the week with a whopping 3 lb weight gain (I swear it's water) and doing the luge down the cellar stairs on my butt.

The luge thing wasn't fun. I decided to go down before bed and reboot the laundry (since the pile went from a mountain to a mountain RANGE, it was a good idea). That third step somehow sent me down for the count. The sad thing is I didn't give a delicate shriek, or utter foul words, but I did this "mmmffffwwoooopppp" sound that was really lame. Even DH is like, "What the hell is your problem?" Until he looked up and saw me sprawled at the bottom of the stairs on top of Mt. Dirtyclothes. Then I got a lecture about putting clothes on the stairs to trip on (gee, yeah, how stupid of me) and a gruff, "You okay? You sure?" I could tell he was scared, but damn, he could have a little stair-side compassion.

To add insult to injury--and I'm only telling my Dudes this because it's way embarrassing--I damaged my butt crack. You know that joke that asks, "Why didn't God make our butt cracks go horizontally instead of up and down?" (Wait for it.....) Because when we slid down the stairs we'd hear a 'whap whap whap'...My butt DID THAT. Honest to Betsy. I got turned a little sideways and whap, whap, my butt counted every single stair. I swear it feels a little stretched out now, like clown lips at the circus (only way bigger).

So you understand my week? Do ya?

In better news, K-man got 3rd at the races, which holds him steady in 3rd place for points. The first place kid is the regional points leader and way older, so if he hadn't shown up, K would have been second.

Little One...Well...She raced. And was enthusiastic about it, which is saying something. It's funny when K-man gets the outside pole position (starting in the front) he's cheering and doing the chicken dance (because that's what he does when he's happy--or he does this Egyptian pose thing--he's weird. It comes from his father). Little One got outside pole and had a fit, "But I want to start next to Kelsey!" Needless to say, she's not ready to start on the pole anyway (picture a turtle in a herd of rabbits and you've got her) so she started next to Kelsey and was happy.

Today is the barium swallow for me (keep your thoughts clean, folks, because there will be no dude named Barry there) and an investigation of my small intestine. No camera thing in a pill yet, Dammit.

That's about it. Gosh, this was long winded. Wish me luck as you drink your coffee and eat breakfast. I've been fasting since 11:57 (I had milk and shared a doughnette--little donut thingie--with the senile dog). I'm damned hungry and wanting coffee.

Bye!

'Tis The Season

2006-07-01T15:22:00.000-07:00

For fireworks and other pyro delights. We have neighbors on all sides of us shooting off bottlerockets and firecrackers and whatever else they can find that will explode.

Usually, DH will just grumble, "Dammit, it's the neighbors again!" But not this year.

I pause as he's hunkered down in the driveway after a volley of explosions from up the hill. "What are you doing?"

He has this look on his face, one that is primitive and manly and full of testosterone. "I'm firing back." He's got a handful of things with wicks or fuses or whatever, and a lighter.

"Why?" As if I really need to ask. This year, he has his own stash of stuff so he's ready for the holidays early instead of going to Sam's Club at the last moment and paying out the nose for 5 sparklers and something called 'Golden Shower'.

He fiddles with the lighter which needs a PH.D. and an octopus to operate. "They're shooting at us! I have to defend the boundaries."

I sigh and roll my eyes. "Please tell me you have no weapons of mass destruction in the basement."

He laughs evilly, and I leave to get French Fries (DH was certain I was going to pick up some French guy. :::snort:::). Of course, coming out of the supermarket were hordes of people carrying fireworks and beer. The little ones carried the fireworks, of course. You can't carry beer until you're 21. When I returned the house was still standing and protected from enemy fire. Thank goodness.

In other news...

I'm going to start posting my weight loss results. Yes, I've decided to hunker down and loose some flab before someone declares me my own nation and gives me a zip code. The only cool thing about being fat enough to be a nation is getting your own flag and song. Athena's music boy can write me my anthem. I'm artistic, so I can do the flag. I'm thinking a blue and green sort of theme, maybe a horse on it, some flowers... It's all hazy. Anyway, it won't matter because I'm going to lose the weight, finally.

So weight loss for this week: 1.6 lbs, which is 6 sticks of butter! Go me! I have lost somewhere in the neighborhood of 10 lbs, but stupid Weight Watchers only counts from your starting weight, not the weight you gained on their program (yes, I'm a dunce, I gained like, 5 lbs). However, I'm going to do my weight lost INCLUDING what I gained, going from my fattest moment. I'll update that in the next post. I must find the little booklet.

School Time Yet?

2006-06-29T13:34:00.000-07:00

I'm ready to kill some of these kids. Mind you, there's only two, but at times they seem as loud and as messy as 1000 kids. My friend, Mary, had a counter for when school was out of session (she's a teacher). I'm fixing to get one so I know how much longer I have them home. Either that, or I'm getting some duct tape.

I am hip-deep in lawn care articles and fixing to move on to belly dancing soon (writing about, not doing, as we don't need an 8.0 earthquake here on the east coast). The naughty story is on hold, though Pigtails is begging me to work on it. She's just jealous because I can write bad words, and she can't. :::grin:::

I'm also yearning to knit again after reading Julie's blog (scroll down to see the lacy goodness) about her scarves that she's making for Christmas presents :::sigh:::. I do miss knitting. I don't get to do it much because it annoys the tendons.

Other than that, things are quiet. I've suspended building the ark as the sun has been out for two days straight. I'll let you know if I take that project up again :::wink:::.

The Great Visit

2006-06-27T19:26:00.000-07:00

The Great Athena has descended, visited and departed, :::sniff:::, though you have to enjoy what you can get. The family arrived yesterday (in the rain that wasn't supposed to happen--can you hear the hammering on the ark?) and stayed through this afternoon. They were all good guests and we only had one mishap--Little One decided to jump rope in sandals. The rope caught her sandal and she fell on her knee. No bandaid required. Athena's brood is older than mine, so it was interesting having teenaged boys around, let me tell you. I think I'm quite happy in this younger age bracket for now .

In other news, I have to research belly dancing and lawn care. No, it's not a book about a gardening belly dancer (though it could be interesting...) I used to work at a garden center, so that's at least familiar. Belly dancing...Well, I have a belly (ample belly). Does that count? An interesting fact: Buffalo grass is the only native grass to America and it's not suitable for lawns. NO, Kentucky Bluegrass isn't native.

That's about it for today. Not exciting, I know. Tomorrow I'll have something interesting to say.

Go, K-man!

2006-06-25T10:08:00.000-07:00

K-man got second place in his regional race yesterday. I didn't go--Little One and I stayed home and vegged because it was looking like rain there. However, it didn't and he raced like a little demon.

In other news, I'm working on building an ark this week, seeing we've had NOTHING BUT RAIN for eons, and we have nothing but rain scheduled from Wednesday on through God knows when. Of course, the skies will clear Monday and Tuesday to honor Athena's visit. Then it's back to rain.

burning question of the day: If you had to build an ark, what 2 animals would you leave behind?

I'd leave behind the squirrels and the mosquitoes. I hate squirrels--we call them tree rats in this house. They destroy my garbage bags (they rip open holes in the bags) and they get into my birdfood and they do nothing nice for me. Mosquitoes need no explanation. They're vile, and Little One gets so itchy from their bites...

I Want To Become...

2006-06-24T11:47:00.000-07:00

A nudist. Yes, you heard me right. After scaling Mt. Laundry down in the laundry area and trying to figure out how to get ahead, I decided it would just be easier to move to a nudist colony somewhere and go without clothing for awhile.

Then I got to thinking...What do nudists do when it's 'that time of the month'? They'd have to wear something or it's get pretty nasty in nudist land. Then that led to the thought of me getting into a disagreement with some redneck, loudmouth man nudist about something, and he'd look at me and say, "So what's your problem? Oh wait...It's obvious." Meaning, PMS. Then I'd have to kill him for his rudeness, (and from suffering from raging PMS) and I would end up in jail wearing an orange jumpsuit or white with horizontal black stripes. Both are mega unflattering. I think we have orange jumpsuits up here. :::shudder::: I'd also probably end up working in the laundry room, washing nasty inmate orange jumpsuits, All. Day. Long.

So I don't want to be a nudist anymore. I'll go do my laundry because there's no email in jail, dude. We couldn't have that, now could we?

PAH!

2006-06-22T11:45:00.000-07:00

The laptop is reading the CD as blank, which either means 1) it's blank, or 2) the laptop is stupid and I'll have to send it to work with DH for him to open it on a potentially smarter computer.

I now know how a groom feels when he can't perform on his wedding night. All that anxiety and excitement for nothing .

For Leslie...

2006-06-22T05:39:00.000-07:00

My PUBLISHED friend Leslie Dicken is convinced I am crazy, so I decided to take this blogthings test to prove to her once and for all that my medication is working and I AM NOT NUTS.

And NO, I have not looked at the CD. It is staring at me now, resembling the senile dog when he begs.

I shall return with the CD results. Later. Maybe.

You Are 65% Normal

(Really Normal)

Otherwise known as the normal amount of normal

You're like most people most of the time

But you've got those quirks that make you endearing

You're unique, yes... but not frighteningly so!

How Normal Are You?

Blast From The Past

2006-06-21T19:24:00.000-07:00

I'm afraid. Really, really afraid.

I have this CD that a friend burned--it contains recovered stuff from our old computer that got zapped by lightning (the one day I forgot to unplug it :::grumble grumble:::). You're probably wondering why I'm afraid. I mean, it's just a herd of files, waiting for me to open them, right?

The scary thing is that I have 3 books I haven't seen in over a year on that CD. I'm afraid to open it, because:

1) What if the books all suck?

2) What if I see something redeeming in one book? That doesn't sound scary, but you have to realize, I'll have to admit that Pigtails is right, and that will cause a whole bunch of grief on my part. She LOVES being right like a mosquito loves blood. Having a redeeming book will also cause work, because then I'd actually have to WRITE something. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not the most motivated of writers. Unless there's a person with a check book and a primed pen waiting to pay me, I'm lazy. Pure and simple.

3) What if my stuff sucks? I know, back to the original thought...But the whole though of being a horrid writer is very scary for an author. Really. It doesn't matter that two of these books are contest finalists...They could still suck, very easily. If they suck, Pigtails would be wrong (because she LOVES one of the books), but I'd have to deal with having the ego that has written the sucky books rather than the ego that had to deal with her friend being right (which it hates). I know, that was as clear as mud.

Okay. So I'll make you a promise...Tomorrow I will open the CD, read the books and see if they have any merit. I'll let you know what I think. Maybe I'll post a few paragraphs and you can all vote on the level of suckiness.

Maybe.

Happy Monday!

2006-06-19T13:28:00.000-07:00

I SURVIVED! Go ME!

The procedure went fine, thanks to the lovely ladies that cared for me (and the Dr too, he did a good job). I was most upset about the IV, but it went in without a hitch. DH even took pity on me and escorted me into the Dunkin Donuts after (had an onion bagel, which I did not enjoy, had to call Pigtails to complain).

K-man's last day of school was today--he brought home a picture of his class at the old school house. It's in black and white, with everyone looking grumpy. So that was sweet!

Other than that, not much craziness. Well, we're doing hay today, the freaking hottest day so far, with thunderstorms on the horizon. We always hay this field in pouring rain for some reason. I always get poison ivy from it, and if I drive the truck I end up dropping my BIL on his head because the field is on the side of a hill. They blame my driving, but it's the DAMN HILL, and the woodchuck holes. But this year I get to sit home and sip soda because I am too loopy to be driving anything still.

My Friend Athena will be visiting next Monday...I have to MUCK THE STY for her arrival. Goddesses deserve better.

I'll check in later with something a heck of a lot more amusing to say. I promise.

Happy Father's Day!

2006-06-18T18:40:00.000-07:00

Happy Father's Day to all the dads, to those that have a dad, wish they had a dad, are dating or married to a dad, and everyone in between.

DH took his lovely children to see CARS at the theater. He said it was hilarious, even for him (and he hates everything). Little One found it just as enjoyable, though she was mad that McDonald's didn't have CARS toys in the happy meals (damned McDonald's).

Other than that...Not much going on. The solution to drink for tomorrow is NASTY in texture. It's like watery jello and glue mixed together. It's even WORSE cold, because it's even more thick and slippery and nasty. I've had my fill of broth, and I was dreaming about devilled eggs earlier (I haven't eaten since breakfast). I HATE DEVILLED EGGS, so I know I'm hungry if I'm dreaming about them.

DH doesn't know this yet, but after the procedure, he's dragging my hungry self to Dunkin Donuts for a bagel and coffee. Don't tell, or he'll drag his feet. I'm better to say, "Ooh! Ooh! Turn here!" Then jump out fast. Don't fear for my life, I'm used to doing this .

I'll be back tomorrow to update you on the procedure.

ICKY

2006-06-17T09:28:00.000-07:00

I am busy shuddering in fear...I have to have a colonoscopy and endoscopy on Monday. Now, before you think, 'that poor old Dude...' I AM NOT OLD. I'm 37. Okay, that may be old to some, like the senile dog, who's pushing 12 and feeling every year of it.

So why do I have to suffer at the hands of doctors? I'm anemic, and they're not sure why, (it's probably caused by the 5 different drugs I take for lupus, so they're not really worried) so they decided to check the inner plumbing to see what's what. The only intriguing part of all of this is that if they don't see anything, I'll get to swallow a pill with a CAMERA in it! Which is way cool, in my book.

I also have to get tested because my sweetest Mummie had colorectal cancer before the age of 60 (and is doing mighty well, too), which is another reason to go and get checked. So tomorrow I will NOT be posting, as I'll be busy on my throne, studying for my exam :::smile:::.

I am honestly more upset about the IV than the test, because I tend to blow out my IV's. My doctorish friend (I'm not sure what she is, but she is right up there and can give medicine and do rectal exams) told me to hydrate, hydrate, hydrate...So I will.

So let's have a little colorectal cancer fact list so you can see why having a colonoscopy is important to do:

1) Polyps (mushroom like growths) are slow growing and can become cancerous, but it takes many, many years. Discovering them early and getting them snipped will take care of them and keep your chances of developing this kind cancer kept to a minimum.

2) Most of the time, there are no symptoms of colo-rectal cancer until it's a late staging. Screening is very important to detect this cancer early.

3) If found early, colo-rectal cancer is treatable and manageable.

So if you're not an old dude, but know old dudes (like your parents) encourage them to be screened. You'll be mighty happy you did.

I am hopping off the soapbox now. Run, don't walk, and get a colonoscopy (because misery loves company).

In other news (if you made it this far):
Only one more day of school for K-man! He's thrilled with his teacher assignment for next year. He gets his kindergarten teacher again (NO, he wasn't demoted, she moved up) for third grade. PLUS, he has a lot of good friends in his class. He's very excited.

No news yet on who will have to suffer...er...be graced with Little One's presence in Kindergarten. All I can say is God help her teacher. I spent Thursday night defending her from the bugs in her room. I ended up closing her window because she was afraid the crickets would come in and get her. I did try to explain that crickets were only trying to find a girlfriend, and they good luck in some countries (and I cringed, because I'd have a cricket farm next to the catepillar farm and worm farm she has established on my front porch). She wasn't buying that, not after the poor moth attacked her (it sat on her shoulder or something). She wasn't buying that it was a butterfly cousin. I rescued the thing from the screeching and put him outside--I think he was very happy to leave, indeed.

Oh, and HAPPY FATHER'S DAY to the dads out there! I'm sending my DH out with money and his children so he can buy them food and have them watch a movie with him (CARS, I believe, since they're a racing bunch). I have to eat jello and broth all day, I'll be damned if I'm cooking for the man, special holiday or NOT.

I'll let you know how the testing goes...

Ever had...

2006-06-14T07:57:00.000-07:00

A week with absolutely NOTHING INTERESTING going on? That's what's going on here, folks. It's the last week of school for the brats, and I've been shopping, and planting plants, and playing 'round on the internet (the sink is groaning with dishes, SHHH, don't tell). So I'm trying to think of anything odd or unusual... Here's what I came up with.

1) An old man flirted with me at the grocery store. He was buying a bag of carrots and parsley, I had a whole whopping food order. I guess his wife left him to make soup then took off to the casino to gamble. Which I found mildly amusing.

2) The senile dog was attacked by the Sit and Spin today. Really. He backed up (he can't turn around between the couch and the coffee table) and ended up on the sit and spin. The look on his face was priceless, "Holy CRAP, what's going ON?" He didn't spin around, mores the pity (yes, I'm a cruel woman). It made me think of when he was a puppy and I'd make him sit on the sled with me while I went sledding. He hated that. I liked it. Ah, those were the days...

3) We took the go kart into school for show and tell in K-man's class. It was pretty funny, because the janitors were taking their break and wanted to drive it around the baseball field (which would have been amusing). The kids actually asked good questions, and the highlight of the event was watching K-man's teacher squeeze her body into the kart, then proceed to get strapped in. You have to keep in mind, K-man is 8 and skinny (I keep feeding him, really). The teacher is tiny, and she actually got in there. I have a better chance of fitting in a size 2 dress than I do of getting into his kart.

That's about it. Today I have my tasks: K-man wants me to rip and load Wallflowers songs into his MP3 player (that he earned himself, the good child). I have lots of painting to get done (I do decorative painting, I'll take some pics and learn to load them for you to view). OOH, I have to teach today! MUST NOT FORGET to go...

That's my Wednesday. Pretty boring for Crazyland.

Good Things Come...

2006-06-12T17:42:00.000-07:00

To those who whine a lot. Really.

I was whining to Julie the Samurai Knitter about not having a bag to carry my stuff to dr's appointments or anywhere else that requires a wait. So I toddle out to the mailbox and there's this tacky green envelope wedged in like a herd of clowns in a clown car. Inside is the most GORGEOUS hand-knit and felted bag. Picture and Pattern of bag here I am truly blessed to have such a gifted and generous friend. THANK YOU, JULIE!!!!!

In other news...My mother-in-law can walk on stilts. Yes, really. The things we learn in the course of a day. K-man got to attend school in the one-roomed school house in town. Of course, there was much whining when I produced the basket for his lunch ("I'm NOT taking my lunch in a BASKET! What will the kids on the bus say?") We were allowed to use paper products, though, so I used a bag and away he went.

We were invited to have lunch with the kids, and during recess they were playing with old-fashioned toys, like the hoop and stick, and stilts. I look and my MIL is hobbling across the lawn on them. She did it several times after that--I think she had fun. She and I could open circus side-show acts. I'll juggle, she can walk on stilts. We'll make a mint.

The Adventures of Sticky

2006-06-10T17:29:00.000-07:00

First, I HAVE tried to update the blog, but the powers that be have stood in my path. So sorry, dudes. I also have been fighting an ear infection and fever, so I'm not really a fun person to have around. But I'm back, feeling 80% good, and ready to tell you the adventures of Sticky.

What is Sticky? Sticky is...well...a stick. I went to work this a.m., parked under a tree during the blowing monsoon and came back to a stick stuck in my window wiper blade. It was a nice stick, about 8 inches long. I went home (2 miles), the stick stayed put, enjoying the breeze and the sunshine after the monsoon left. The brats and I then drove to Friendly's for a dinner, and Sticky went along too. We then ran an errand in another town, traveling the highway, fighting city traffic--all with Sticky in tow.

On the way home, Little One says, "Mom, there's a stick on the windshield."
Me: "Why yes, it came from work."
LO: "You mean it's been there the whole time? Let's name it."
K-man pipes up: "We'll name it Stick."
LO: "Sticky! When we get home, he can come in the house and live with us."
Me: "Well, let's keep in mind it might fall off."
LO (in tears): "Mom! Stop and get Sticky. He can't fall off."
K-man: "Yeah, or drive slower. I think you're going too fast."
Me: "I'm NOT getting the stick. Maybe he will decide he likes living here better, and jump off and make a new home." That sounded good to me, but the kids weren't impressed.

So we drive. The children are in the back, intently staring at the darned stick on the windshield.

LO: "Sticky, HANG ON! We're almost home!"
K-man: "Yeah, I still think you need to drive slower, Mom."

By this time, we're about 5 minutes from home. I have now joined the children in watching the stick in the windshield wiper. Sticky is merrily enjoying the wind on his stick parts. We stop for a red-light, and Sticky lays down. LO is sure he's exhausted from hanging on. "Are we home yet? Hang on, Sticky, we're almost there!"

We turn off, the last little road to home (about 1/4 mile, on a backroad). The sun is blazing into the windshield. There's a liberal coating of dirt and rainspots, and I unthinkingly squirt the fluid and turn on the wipers. Sticky goes sailing into the breeze, after a 30 mile journey on my wiperblade.

ME: "OMG, I killed Sticky!"
LO wails. Even K-man is upset. "How could you kill Sticky! Mom, go get him!"

So I pull over into the cemetery and get out, soothing the children. I lock the car, and run down the road looking for Sticky. Until it dawned on me--what in HELL was I doing? Where the HELL was the crazy dudes to haul me off to basket class? I searched quickly, picked up a stick (too long) picked up another and brought it back to the car triumphantly. "Here's Sticky!"
LO: "That's NOT Sticky, he had a curve in him."
K-man comes to his senses. "I can't believe you went looking for a stick." (Neither can I).
Me:"Well, Sticky must have wanted to live here, so he's not around."
K-man: "Well, you launched him into the bushes, Mom. Why did you turn on your washers anyway?" (Sure, make me look like the bad guy.)
Me: "Because it's important to be able to see? What's more important--the stick, or us surviving the trip home."
The Brats say in unison, "The stick."
I go to throw the wrong stick out. LO wails again. "We can take that one home! Make him our new Sticky!"

So that is how I came to have a stick in my living room. It's with the deer antler the senile dog found me years ago. Let's hope Sticky doesn't have any more adventures--today about wore me out.

Hot Diggity!

2006-06-07T08:22:00.000-07:00

I am so THRILLED to learn the least stolen vehicle out there is the Ford Taurus Station wagon! WHOO HOOO! It was even voted the #1 car that AOLers don't want to drive! Hot damn, I never have to lock the car again, because NO ONE is going to take it. Heck, if I park it next to an Escalade (the #1 stolen car) I could probably leave it unlocked, doors open, hood open with the keys in it and the car running.

Though the world isn't partial to the Taurus wagon, I am partial to my Mom-mobile. It can hold 2 beastly kids, one friend, the 100 lb senile dog and a few bikes. Of course, the dog isn't partial to being squished in the back with the bikes, so sometimes he gets sits up front, which is better than Christmas in his little dog world (shhhh, don't tell DH).

It has proven to be a low maintains car. It likes gas, and oil, and that's about it. Which is good, because as a mechanic's wife, the old saying, 'the shoemaker's children go barefoot' is very much in action here. I think I even still have snow tires on my Mom-mobile. Which is okay, since you just NEVER KNOW. There might be a blizzard in June...

Other good things? It has CUP HOLDERS. Need I say more?

So yep, go drive your Escalades, your Seabrings, your other fancy cars. I'll stick to my Mom-mobile.

Go Dudes!

2006-06-06T09:35:00.000-07:00

OMG, I got a hit on the dude counter from South Africa! I have officially beat my friend Julie, the Samurai Knitter (in my DUDE list!), at getting a hit from every continent but Antarctica. We've had a little race going, and I was busy whining that she'd probably win when her Knitty article came out www.knitty.com in July. If you knit, go visit Julie. She writes amusing but interesting articles. But we WON! GO DUDES! :::fist pumping galore:::

In other news, I'm working hard at writing my romantica...not. Well, I brainstormed it (we all know how I feel about brainstorming--I'd rather have hot pokers stuck in my eyes) and I have a plan. I just have to get my weekly writing goal of 5,000 words written. EEEEK.

The main problem I'm having lately is brainstorming the story--and not because I'm plot-challenged, as usual. See, I have no problem WRITING the naughty words, but God help me if I actually have to say one to someone. You have to understand, I teach little kids how to ride horses and I have the queen of language (a.k.a. Little One) residing in my home. All I need is for her to pick up some naughty word and to scream it at the top of her lungs. It's bad enough that she hollered once, "GOD DAMMIT!" at the post office when K-man dumped over a display of boxes. Mind you, she was under two, but the embarrassment has lasted me a lifetime, thank-you-very-much.

Now, Pigtails has the opposite problem. She calls me and spews out random naughty words to boost her confidence so she can write them. For some reason, her naughty words are stuck in her mouth--mine in my fingers. In fact, we were discussing one thing, and I used every euphemism in the world to describe the female naughty bits...Meanwhile she's screaming at me, "Just say it, dammit! SAY IT!" And then a stream of naughty bit words came flying from her mouth like melted butter on a lobster. I tell yah, if she weren't my buddy I'd drop cow manure bombs on her house. I'm that jealous.

Wheee!!!

2006-06-04T14:29:00.000-07:00

Race Update: SECOND PLACE!!! My boy raced like a mad-man. If he'd had just a few more laps, he might have won, but we're happy with second. Unfortunately, in the first heat race on of the girls hit the wall and fractured her wrist--so hugs go out to Bri. Thankfully, accidents like that are pretty rare despite the danger factor involved in racing.

So back to my K-man...He finishes the race, goes to tech (top three Karts have to pass inspection). He gets out of the kart and says, "The Magic 8 Ball lied. It said I'd come in third place!" Yeah, well, get used to it, kid. Magic 8 lies about a lot of stuff, especially about my writing and when I'll sell something, and all that. But the kids enjoy asking it stuff, and now that K-man can read the answers and ask it normal questions, it's fun for them. When he was little he used to ask it silly stuff (I forget what, now, but it wasn't yes or no questions) and the 8 Ball would flip the little cube on its corner so it didn't have an answer.

Little One usually asks Magic 8 if Santa will come back next year, and it happily says, "I predict it is so." It didn't predict how she'd finish today, which was dead last, meaning she was so far behind she thought she was first. However, she was very happy and eager to race, so that's good. I told her she could earn Laffy Taffies for passing people. She passed one person because they'd spun and weren't moving, and was very proud.

So that was my day so far. Everyone is still at the track. I came home to get myself some exedrin and cheer for my boy. YAY, K-man on your great finish!! WTG!

:::sniff:::

2006-06-03T07:49:00.000-07:00

My little one graduated from pre-school yesterday. I'm feeling just a tad old, and definitely nostalgic. Oh, and a little relieved because she didn't melt in the middle of the ceremony.

It's fairly sad to have to brace myself at every public event because we just never know how the drama queen is going to react. This is the child that decided, at the tender age of three, that she wasn't going to do the chicken dance because "chickens don't clap." I tried to convince her somewhere there was a happy group of chickens clapping their little hearts out, but she wasn't buying it. I got the eye roll, a big sigh and, "chicken don't clap, Mom."

But yesterday she sang, and participated, and had a huge piece of cake with her face on it (they took the class picture and had it made into the cake icing. She got her face!)

In other news, I've been writing up a storm this week, working on actual fiction. Pigtails has decided to drag me into her latest adventure in genre discovery (no, we're not cross dressing. We're writing something NEW and DIFFERENT, you pervs).

Today is hair cut day for the very shaggy K-man. I also have to visit the bank (and Dunkin Donuts!) Then off to write some naughty words. I'm not ready to come out of the closet and proclaim I write romantica yet (oops, I think I just did...). Romantica is romance with an erotic twist. My thinking is: I can write about poodles, I can write about import car-tuning and make money doing it...Why not erotic romance stories for a profit? Hell, I've had sex at least twice (SHHHH....don't tell my mom). I at least KNOW a little about it. Very little research involved. Maybe. Sorta. Okay, maybe if DH is willing...

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Catch you tomorrow when we find out how K-man does at his race! Oh, and Little One has demanded her training wheels be removed from her bike, and has been racing up a storm in the practice go-kart. She may become the queen of aggressive-land out on the track...But maybe not. We'll see tomorrow...

Yay, TAWNY!

2006-05-31T19:00:00.000-07:00

My friend Tawny (www.tawnyweber.com) sold her first book on Monday. She'll be a Blaze writer! I'm so very proud because she's stuck with writing through the thick and thin, when she thought she'd never sell, when the lines closed or changed...She just kept on typing. Her writing has won many contests, has captured GH finals and has captivated many an agent and editor. I know many husbands that are happy to have their wives read her work...it's that HOT, and that GOOD!!! LOL.

At one website (www.smartbitchestrashybooks.com), they give out stupid titles when someone wins something. I'm so jealous I could just spit nails, but I decided, HEY, I'm bigger than that! I have my own blog, why not make up my own titles? So Tawny gets to be the first Dude with a title.

Kneel, Tawny, and receive your title: Tawny, I dub thee Queen of the Sultry Gypsies and Keeper of the sexy stilettos!

CONGRATS ON YOUR SALE! May there be many more to come, and sold-out shelves all over the country.

Let Flopping Dogs Lie...

2006-05-29T12:02:00.000-07:00

Why do dogs flop where they KNOW they're going to have to move? We went to a picnic at my MIL's house (good food!) and the senile dog went. He proceeds to flop first in front of the buffet table on the patio--and was forced to leave. He flopped next in front of the door to the house--you guessed it, almost got stepped on and had to leave. THEN, he must have gotten really disgusted because he went down to the lawn to flop UNDER the badminton net. Yes, he came back mighty quickly, looking dejected. The kids were playing, so I can only imagine how he lasted as long as he did (I think he was down there for five minutes).

Now, we don't live on an acre of land--we have 12 or so acres he could choose to flop on, and on 8 of them he probably wouldn't get chased away. I say 8 because the cows dominate a fair share of them and would definitely kick his sorry butt out of their pasture. They've never liked him. Whenever he goes out to their pond he looks both ways, slinks in, gets a drink, chases a frog or two then slinks back like someone beat his sorry butt. He KNOWS those cows are gunning for him.

But back to the patio... It doesn't help that when the poor dog lies down he sounds like a house dropped on top of him. My BIL's girlfriend kept asking, "Was that your DOG?" because he'd flop (mind you, he's 100 lbs) but he'd moan and groan as he went down, and there'd be a creaking of bones in there as well.

We're going back later for dinner. We'll see if he goes back down and flops somewhere different. Right now he's flopped in the foyer of the house. I'm thinking he doesn't quite get the whole path of traffic thing. I guess I have to remember you can't teach an old dog new tricks--or should that read, you can't teach an old dog where to flop?

Weekend!

2006-05-28T17:59:00.000-07:00

Yay, it's the weekend! It was actually a nice weekend (well, so far. I don't want to jinx it). A friend visited for the day, ending with a cookout. Today I got to sleep late, watched some of the Indy 500 with the DH and brainstormed a new story idea with Pigtails. Oh, and I played Pokemon trading cards with K-man and got my butt whooped because I have no clue what I'm doing or if he even knows what he's doing. But he was happy, and actually did some math in the process, so that's a good thing. I even wrote the new story idea, imagine that.

So today I'm wondering, what kind of books do you like? Spicy hot books, adventure books, fantasy, historical...What makes you turn the page and read more?

I personally enjoy a ton of different book ideas. Some weeks I want spicy, other weeks I want fantasy. I skimmed the new Anne McCaffery books that were written with her son--hated them. He might be her son but he doesn't 'feel' the whole dragon world thing. I just found a bunch of books I got at the last conference that I need to read--a mix of romantic suspense and comedy. The book I'm writing now is a spicy idea I had. Pigtails is putting me up to this. We'll see what happens.

So what do you enjoy reading?

Freaky Friday

2006-05-26T18:40:00.000-07:00

It's Friday, and the movie Freaky Friday is on. I have to say, this is one weird movie. I can't imagine switching places with my mom (and I like my mom). Though I will say, since I've grown up and had kids, I find myself saying and doing stuff like my mom would do (have you ever done that?). You know, the, "Don't make me come up there!" and, "Don't make me turn this car around!" That sort of stuff.

But I wondered, as I watched the movie, if I could trade places for one day with someone, who would it be? I think I'd like to trade places with Wonder Woman. I like the thought of the invisible jet, and spinning the golden lasso thingie. Then she can come and whip my kids into shape.

So who would you like to trade places with for a day?

Where Would You Go?

2006-05-24T14:03:00.000-07:00

Poodle update: the book is DONE! Yahoo! I have seen the last of the poodles unless we get edits. So cross your fingers, legs, eyes...What ever else you can cross that edits are light. I'm about ready to barbecue me a toy poodle.

Fish Update: Everyone is still alive. Summertime the frog is lively, Spot has eaten all of the algae on the sides of the tank. Goldfish are thinking about going on strike because they're not getting fed enough.

Thought of the day: If you could go on vacation anywhere in the continental USA, where would you go? It must be somewhere you haven't been before. I'm going to list my top five (because I'm bored and waiting for brownies to cool).

1) Grand Canyon. It's GOT to be magnificent. Ever since the Brady Bunch went there I've been dying to go and sleep on the canyon floor. I'd also shoot the rapids, whatever else. I'm a little leery about riding a mule down, but I'd consider it.

2) Yosemite: I want to see Old Faithful and the gorgeous countryside. My kids would get a kick out of it all.

3) Florida Keys: Another childhood fantasy, this one brought on by the television series, FLIPPER. I want to see alligators and fish and all that.

4) The big cave in KY: I forget the name of it, Carlsbad Caverns? We're cave people here. We've been in many, and I'd love to see this one!

5) Acadia National Park: Though I lived in Me for many years, I never got a chance to go to Acadia. I'd LOVE to go. I think it'd bring back many good memories of my childhood.

That's it...Where would you go visit?

Monday Musings...

2006-05-22T08:28:00.000-07:00

Well, it's Monday and the new fish are still alive. Which is good, if they decide to stay alive. If they decide to die tomorrow their warranty will have expired from the pet store--we had 48 hours for them to croak at the pet store's expense. That little Spot (the algae eater) has been going to town on the algae. He's eaten the glass clean and has been working on the frog's 'house' and the plants. K-man saw Spot sucking rocks today--which is good, because they're dirty too.

Which got me to thinking...God made this lovely creature to clean up the algae in my fish tank. Where is the creature to clean the dirt off the floor in my house??? We have a dirt driveway, and when it rains the driveway sand comes into my house. It's very disheartening to dust a pan of dirt off the floor every day. But if I had a creature to wander around, eating the dirt, now that would be great.

I was thinking maybe a giant earthworm at first, but they're kind of ugly. I mean, which end do you pet? And I believe they leave a slimy trail, which wouldn't be good for the floor. So something with legs and a face would be nice. It doesn't have to have 4 legs--we could do with more. However, I'd prefer it didn't have fur, seeing the senile dog sheds enough. Maybe it could eat shed fur as well, and dander, and dirt.

I know, some of you are thinking, "Woman, don't you have a vacuum?" Yes, I do. But the vacuum involves me getting up and running it around. Plus I have to pick up the damned toys and shoes, and toys, and the dog's bone, and more toys to vacuum. I've tried just vacuuming it all up, but the damned vacuum gets clogged when you try to suck up a Hot Wheels car or a Barbie.

So God, if you're out there, I'd like a new pet. One that is sort of like a vacuum but more fun. If it fetched a ball or two now and then we'd be happy (the old dog don't fetch. Never did as a young dog, either). Feel free to send it on down. We'll leave the porch light on for it.

Houston, we have FISH!

2006-05-20T19:34:00.000-07:00

Or maybe that should read, "Houston, we have MORE fish!" Because today the tank of death has had it's certificate of health reinstated.

Since the birth of our fishtank, we've been taking the water for analysis at the local pet store. During that time, we lost Summertime the frog while the tank cycled, which means basically the water adjusted to fish wastes while trying to grow happy bacteria to combat the said fish wastes.

Well, the tank has cycled, so we brought home Spot the pleco (those algae eaters) and Summertime the frog. As we rode home with our fish, K-man says, "When I die, I want to be buried with my fish."

So I ask, "Does that mean you're getting flushed down the toilet, too?"

The little one laughs hysterically and informs me, "He's too big to fit down the toilet!"

I just love my warped little kids.

So the 2 goldfish, Zoom and Multi, are hysterical to watch now that they're discovered the intruders. They've been hovering over the frog wondering what the hell it is. Then they'll go over to Spot and hover over him. In between they're sucking up the food on the floor of the tank because God only knows when the next meal is (it's at 8:00 usually, the little fin pigs). Spot must think he's died and gone to pleco heaven because we have more algae than his little heart can handle.

Other than that, I've gotten quite a bit done on the poodles (I'm doing potty training right now. It's making me think back and remember my senile dog's puppy days. Man, was he CUTE). The birthday party was a huge success. The cupcakes were edible (thanks to the babysitter) and I'm getting ready to finish up more poodles.

Catch you in the A.M.!

500!!!

2006-05-19T19:22:00.000-07:00

Weeeee! We hit 500 on the dude counter! Now, some of those are me trying to figure out how to post, or figure out how to fix the links, or check the spelling, but a good part of those are hits from my DUDES! I don't know if I should say thanks or hand out the straight jackets. Maybe a bit of both.

Slated for this weekend: The party at the go-kart/token place for K-man. Go-kart racing Sunday, and poodles. In case you haven't guessed, my boss caught up with me so I have diligently worked on my book all week like a good camper. I have realized that will never, ever own a poodle. My senile Corey dog is enough work, and all I do is order kids to feed him and let him out. Oh, and clean margerine off his head when it falls off the knife (he happened to be standing by me at the counter). I will say, he's very shiny now.

The only thought I had today (besides toy poodles being definitely more trouble than their worth, IMHO) was the whole fencing the border deal. They were talking about it a bit on TV this morning, and the idea boggles me. I'm wondering:

1) if Craftsman will see an opportunity for mega bucks and export more wire cutters to Mexico for cheap sale
2)Who will build the fence? I hope to hell it's not the people that fix CT highways. At that rate of speed, it would take another century to finish
3) will we have a Three little pigs theme in the fencing... One section of hedge (or Cacti)one section of wood and one section of brick.
4)Why not go all out and build a huge, kick-ass fence like the Great Wall in China so we can charge admission and stuff like that?
5) Will Home Makeover build a section and decorate it in a Tex/Mex theme?

That's enough pondering for one night. Poodles await.

What Goddess Are YOU?

2006-05-18T07:01:00.000-07:00

I have a goddess friend: her name is Athena. I've always been jealous of Athena. She's a brilliant writer, a good friend, AND she's a goddess. So I decided, what the hay (or is it hey?) I'll get my own goddess title. To hell with jealousy. I'm taking over the heavens. So here's my goddess title:

You Are Artemis!

Brave, and a natural born leader.

You're willing to fight for what you believe in...

And willing to make tough decisions.

Don't forget - the people around you have ideas too!

What Goddess Are You?

I'm sure Julie can give us more of a goddess lesson, but Artemis was the twin to Apollo, the Sun God and was into hunting yet preserving mystical animals and other really cool stuff. I like that idea. I have no problem with changing some jerk that cuts off my chariot into a bear and then shooting him with an arrow right through the heart. Nothing like a little roadrage, Goddess-style. I also have no problem with protecting the unicorns and other mystical animals with my trusty bow and arrow (mind you, I've never shot a bow and arrow in real life, but I'm game for anything). So I guess Artemis is good for me! Go me!

So what goddess are YOU?

Neglectful...

2006-05-17T16:15:00.000-07:00

I realized today I've been, once again, neglecting my dudes. I was reminded after sassing my senile dog (NO, you cannot take your bone outside! Go back in the house) of how you all must look, little faces down on your paws, eyes all huge and soulful as if I were the worst dude in the world. A combination of the Wicked Witch of the East, West and a smattering of Roseanne in there as well.

Which got me to thinking... If evil people had dogs to make them feel guilty now and then, would they be quite as evil? Of course, you have to know how to FEEL guilty to be subjected to the sad-eyed stare. Think back...The Wicked Witch didn't have a dog, she had flying monkeys and obviously had a dog problem by the way she treated Toto. Those flying monkeys were damned happy, too, when she melted. Mojo Jojo of the Power Puff girls doesn't have a dog. But then, he IS a monkey.

The only bad people I can think of that have a dog is that evil team that was on Laff Olympics (with Yogi Bear) the dog's name was Mumbly. He'd mumble and go "Zzzzz-zzzz-zzz" when he laughed. That made think back to my first family dog, a Siberian husky. She was starving and obviously from an abused home, and had run away. We fed her, posted an ad in the paper but no one answered. About a month later, the people showed up--come to find out the man of the family would beat the wife and the dog. The dog ran away, the wife stayed.

So I guess, as I look at the senile dog, who has now forgotten how evil I am and has fallen sound asleep, that perhaps the reason why evil people don't have dogs is that the dogs are smarter. They don't stick around for bad treatment. They leave.

I know, this is way deep for a Wednesday evening before 1) Alias 2) Lost 3) Finding out if Elliot got booted off Idol. Try to take it all with a grain of salt, and watch out for the flying monkeys.

Happy Belated Mom's Day!

2006-05-15T06:19:00.000-07:00

Happy Belated Mother's Day!! My urchins blessed me with hand-made gifts, made me a breakfast of poptarts and helped me pick out little plants (I got 2 of the sweetest tiny boxwoods. I adore boxwoods.) We also had lunch AND dinner out (Mc D's and Friendly's. K-man proclaimed Friendly's to be the best restaurant EVER, and we should have tipped the lady at least $10.)

We also went to the rodeo. In the rain. We were showered with mud when the bronc horses went by, which made the kids giggle. A cowboy got bucked off and lost his boot (a total Tide moment, let me tell you). I want to come back as a bucking bull when I die (or a bucking horse). Anyone that harnesses my most deadly trait, makes me work for 8 seconds then feeds my fat face is golden in my book.

So for entertainment today, I decided to find out which horrid piece of literature I am. I don't think this book describes me, but I could be wrong. Go see what miserable book you are and check back:

take the WHAT BAD BOOK ARE YOU test.

and go to mewing.net. not as good as reading a good book, but way better than a bad one.

Saturday Musings

2006-05-13T08:07:00.000-07:00

First, thanks for the birthday well-wishes for K-man. Well, the cake for the birthday turned out okay--which is highly annoying because how can I complain that DH turned off the oven if the cake was tasty? I can only chalk it up to my superior baking skills ::::snort:::

I'm sitting here, trying not to think about my K-man's go-kart race today. Little one has a birthday party, and since we've been in monsoon land (we got like, 4 inches of rain yesterday) there was some question if he'd race or not. My feeling is I can sit home and be miserable quite easily--no need to travel to NY state and be wet and cold.

Of course, I'm feeling a little guilty because I didn't paint the photographer dude's beta fish bowl. This is a huge grizzly of a man with a beard and all that, wears leather biker attire (his business card has him on his Harley and two bikini clad women flanking each side). He wants me to paint bowls with beta fish on them, with purple flowers. His favorite color is purple. I've already done 2 bowls for him, so I need to get a third done.

I really have no reason to worry (besides the photographer not getting his fish). K-man is a great driver, and he's got the best helmet, safety gear, all that. But this is a new division on a much faster track, and a regional race to boot. A mother has a right to worry a little, right?

So today I'm going to keep busy by taking the little one to the birthday party (at an ice cream parlor!) and writing more poodles. Will I survive and evade the men in the white coats? Check back tomorrow and see.

Happy Birthday and Gas

2006-05-11T05:58:00.000-07:00

I know, it seems weird for me to have Gas in the title (we'll get to that part in a moment) and say Happy Birthday to my oldest boy, who will turn 8 today. Well, he already turned 8, seeing he was yanked from my poor, C-section slashed body at 4:55 AM. So seeing we're in the midst of birthday preparations, our topic for today (again, later) is GAS, and I don't mean bodily function gas.

Off topic: I'm already pissed at the DH for turning off the oven this AM (he NEVER turns off the oven, why today?). I made a rousing breakfast of cinnabuns and planned to put the cake in the oven and have it be done after I got back from the bus. Instead, I pulled out a lukewarm, runny cake. The little one looks at me and says, "OOOOH, OOOH, EWWWW. That doesn't look too good." As always, she's very observant. So we're going to attempt baking it again. We'll see how bad it turns out.

So while I'm busy hunting down presents and other birthday-like things, I want to know how much you all are paying for gas. I paid $3.07 for plain ole normal gas two days ago and just about had a heart attack in the middle of the Sunoco station. I think I should have married an oil mogul instead of my genius, mechanical DH. Or at least I should get him to go dig around in the backyard and see if we can hit oil, like the Beverly Hillbillies.

So Happy Birthday, little man, and how much are you paying for gas???

Monkeys

2006-05-10T11:08:00.000-07:00

So last night, I get up to turn on the bathroom light for the little one (her princess night light died) and come back to bed. It's 1:45 AM, and the DH says to me, "I should try to do more evil."

Now, I have NO CLUE how we got to that (there must have been more dialogue in there somewhere). So I say, half-asleep: "You can't. There isn't a monkey for that."

DH: :::snorts::: "What do you mean?"

Me: "You know--See no evil, Speak no evil, Hear no evil? There isn't a 'Do no evil'."

DH: "If there isn't a do no evil monkey, then I can do more evil, then. There's nothing to stop me from doing it."

I just remember mumbling that he couldn't do more evil, and going back to sleep.

So my burning question of the day is: Was there REALLY a 'do no evil' monkey, and it got destroyed, or was it left off intentionally as a governmental ploy to be able to rule the world one day?

I'm thinking there WAS a fourth monkey, and he was either A) handcuffed, and couldn't keep up with the trio, so he went and drank himself silly at a bar (with a straw, he's handcuffed, remember) and became the subject of a velvet painting B) Assaulted by a band of roving hyenas and roasted for being evil C) Got lost in some old lady's closet and was never seen again. D) Broken, like in the spoof on the Ten commandments... "I give you these 4...:::crash:::3 evil monkeys! Heed what they say!"

Take your pick. I know, I'm nuts. It happens when you send your little one to kindergarten orientation. It makes one a little loopy.

Beware...

2006-05-08T08:09:00.000-07:00

Now that you're afraid of vampires or snakes lurking around the corner, I have an important topic to discuss that should scare the pants off you.

Sun Exposure.

It's summertime (or getting there) and my friend Heather already got a sunburn. Seeing I am the poster child for limiting sun exposure (I have lupus and am sun sensitive) I will educate you all on the evils of sunshine.

1) Sunscreen is GREAT, but realize that 45 SPF does not make you Superman or Superwoman. The 45 SPF means that it protects you 45 times over your sun tolerance limit. So if you sunburn in 1 minute, that 45 SPF will last you for 45 mins.

2) Reapplying Sunscreen is GREAT, but realize once you've hit your tolerance level in the SPF label, you have to go to a higher number to get protection. So if you're using 15 SPF, you can bump up to a 30 SPF, but you only get 15 times more protection. What that means is if you burn in one minute, apply 30 SPF after 15 minutes, you only get 15 more minutes in the sun. Sucks, doesn't it???

3) You can burn when it's overcast. The bad rays go through the clouds and attack like little rabid fleas. So you must protect yourself with sunscreen even on a cloudy day.

4) The sun's rays are strongest from 9am to 4pm, so you need more protection during those hours.

5) Sunlight can REFLECT off surfaces, like the ground, leaves, sand, etc. So if you put on a baseball cap and think you're good to go, think again. Go get the sunscreen.

6) You can sunburn THROUGH your clothes. A tee shirt has an SPF of 7. If you're sun sensitive, look for clothing that has SPF built into it. Try www.sunprecautions.com They have hats and stuff, too. The clothing is well-made and washable. It's expensive, but I've had my shirts and hats for years and they still look great.

7) Don't forget lips and other areas that get forgotten when applying sunscreen. Chapstick and Blistex make lip balm with SPF in it.

8) Visit a dermatologist if you have moles that have changed in size, shape or color.

9) Skin Cancer is a DEADLY disease. Once you get it, it can be fast-moving and take your life quickly. You can avoid this by simply applying sunscreen, using smarts when dealing with the sun, and checking your body for weird moles.

10) Sun exposure causes wrinkles, dark patches and all stuff you don't want when you age. Why not defeat it now by slopping on the sunscreen???

You have been warned. You can now return to your regular lives, wearing sunscreen, of course.

Brainstorming

2006-05-05T04:39:00.000-07:00

Brainstorming. Uh, no, I'm not doing it. This is the one thing in the writing world I hate with a passion. I've always hated it, but the invention of IM and chat rooms make it even worse, because my happy little writer friends drag me in there and then they discuss goals and motivations and conflicts and they begin to talk about these imaginary people like they were their best friends. It's creepier than a plumber with a low waistline. I always get lost and confused, because I can't figure out what's for dinner, never mind plan 10 years of Rico Swave's life.

Sadly, my so-called friends have resorted to rude tactics to get me to brainstorm. They lure me into a chatroom with the scent of fresh gossip, then once I'm in, they toss the net and truss me up. AND THEY LAUGH, the blighters. "Ha ha, you have to brainstorm. Now tell me what you think of this for Gino's internal conflict." Of course, I've been known to escape. I've made AOL my scapegoat more than once. "Oh, sorry, AOHELL dumped me again." I'll probably burn in hell for it and never be able to get an internet connection again, but it's worth it.

But there's one way I will brainstorm sort of willingly, and that's when two of my friends get out the Tarot cards. We'll hit the chatroom and ask a question about our story, then they'll pull cards. I like it because there's very little thought on my part. I can sit and make rude comments and play the 'card pulling music', sort of like when they do Final Jeopardy on T.V. And tarot plotting is about 99.9999% accurate--better than birth control pills!

Of course, it's frustrating when you get a NS reading--meaning 'no s##t'. That's when you get cards that a total illiterate moron could interpret about your story. But there's still little thought and even more opportunity for snarky comments.

So friends, know I'm on to you. I vow to have more control at the slightest hint of juicy tidbits. And don't try the whole, "I SOLD! Hit the chatroom!" scene because when I discover it was a ploy, I will attack like a toy poodle looking for ankle meat. You've been warned.

Scintillate, scintillate

2006-05-04T06:16:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry I've been quiet--I am deep into poodles at the moment, trying to get something on paper so my boss won't string me up by my toes and dangle me over alligator infested waters. On top of avoiding said boss, we've got a full schedule today in Dudeland. We need to take fishtank water to the petstore to see if we can get more new fish to attempt to kill, then there's gymnastics for the little one, and I should see about moving my flabby body in some form of exercise. So in light of that, today we'll discuss using million dollar words in your writing.

You're probably wondering what a million dollar word is...well, it's words smart people use so that no one knows what the hell you're trying to say. Why pointificate with a word like fornicate when you can just say, "F#$k it" and get nachos or something fun. That gets the point across, right?

In the writing world, there are tons of authors using million dollar words to either 1) hide the fact that they have no plot or GMC, or 2) trying to make their romance work more literary by having a juicy dictionary stuffing word or two. They are both WRONG. I tell you, there's nothing more maddening than reading a great love scene and being stopped by some word I have NO CLUE what it means. I'm a smart woman, and you're not getting any brownine points if I have to stop reading your sex scent to get the dictionary and look up your million dollar crap. I'd rather chuck your book and read TV Guide. Or vote for American Idol. ANYTHING.

Stephen King in his book On Writing says something to the effect that too many long words is like dressing up your pet in human clothes and parading him around. I don't have the book at hand, so I'm fudging it some, but it was cool. Basically he was trying to say, "Long words are BAD!" and he's right. I mean, why use a million dollar word for something when the simple works just as well? The average American reads on an 8th grade level (SZ will be chiming in and correcting me here, I bet). So using regurgitate when barf works is pretty pointless.

Of course, Stephen King wasn't writing advice books when I was a kid. He was writing blood and vampires :::shudder::: so I used to go out of my way to use long words in my writing in junior high and high school. My goal was to frustrate my teachers by making them look up words from my papers. Yes, I used the words correctly. I was a smart geek, not a base moron.

For swearing, we'd get really geeky and use phrases like, "anal orifice" to get the point across. Of course, hollering at someone, "You anal orifice!" is nowhere near as satisfying as calling them the real thing, but at least you won't get your mouth washed out with soap.

So below is a list a friend sent me of phrases you probably shouldn't use in your writing. If you made these up and I'm guilty of plagiarism, my bad. Come over to the house and I'll cook you dinner or make you an effigy of Christ with my clothes eating dryer.

Linguistic Transmographications and Their Translations

1. Scintillate, scintillate, asteroid minific. Twinkle, twinkle, little
star .
2. Pulchritude possess solely cutaneous profundity. Beauty is only skin
deep
3. Eschew the implement of correction and vitiate the scion. Spare the rod
and spoil the child
4. Individuals who make their abode in vitreous edifices would be advised to
refrain from catapulting petrious projectiles. People who live in glass
houses shouldn't throw stones. (this was my personal favorite, I used to say that to my sister all the time. I don't think she ever got the whole glass house thing because Billy Joel came out with an album around then called, Glass Houses. She probably thought people shouldn't through stones at her Billy Joel album, which is true.)
5. Neophyte's serendipity beginner's luck
6. Linguistic transmographications obfuscate the obvious. Too many long
words confuse the reader

The Jealous Princess

2006-05-02T11:40:00.000-07:00

Poodle Fact: Those frilly cuts with pompons and frills actually serve a purpose. The poodle is a water dog, so shaving some hair helped with mobility in the water and kept the coat free of snags from swamp grass (or whatever). The puffs of hair left are located over joints or major organs (like the heart)--the thought being the hair would keep those areas warm while swimming in the icy cold water. Funky, eh?

Now, the gossip of the day:
Athena, the Goddess of Wisdom, has informed me she will be gracing me with her presence at the end of June to view the bevy of awesome schools we have to offer. She'll be bringing her 3 boys and her adorable daughter, the royal Princess of the family. I informed my daughter she'd have a guest, and she was not impressed.

"I don't want to meet no five-year-old."

"What about the wish you made to meet everyone in the world and make friends with them?"

She glared. "I changed my mind."

I decided to make it sound like a really good thing: "But she's very nice. She likes ponies and princesses, and she has older boys that will come with her and they treat her like a princess. Maybe they'll wait on you and stuff."

She grunted, and we went out to hang laundry. Yes, I like the smell of hung laundry. However, later that night the neighbor's dog barked at me for STEALING my own laundry, because he figures my backyard is his backyard. It's nice to know my laundry is safe from thieves.

But anyway, so you won't think I'm a horrid mean woman, I asked my DD to pick up the clothes pins off the ground because last week, my son decided it would be cool to clip them all in his hair--he looked like he had dread locks, however it's spelled. I wish I had blackmail photos of that, let me tell you. I'd be getting chores done until he's 50.

So the little one picked them up, but said with a sniff, "Maybe when that other 5 yr old comes, she can tell her older boys, the men who serve her, to pick up the clothes pins."

I about DIED. She was jealous! I then explained that the boys were her brothers, and she accepted that and made a plan of what ponies she'd share with 'the other 5 yr old'. But now I'm expecting Athena's boys to show up in purple servant clothes to pick up clothes pins. And I'm getting blackmail photos of that, too.

Merkins galore!!

2006-04-30T05:39:00.000-07:00

Since some of my dudes are having a hard time finding merkin knowledge, it's my duty to inform and educate the masses.

Enjoy! Let me know who's buying one for Christmas!

Trish.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Merkin (for the very stuffy and correct, like me)

http://www.straightdope.com/classics/a3_232.html Haha, very funny diatribe!

www.merkinworld.com History, facts and pictures, just in case you want to order one.

http://www.playazon.com/fashion/merkin_light.html Lastly, a gift idea...with pictures. This merkin has a hands-free flashlight! Tells you how to attach it and al that good stuff.

That Julie!

2006-04-29T17:16:00.000-07:00

Julie the Samari Knitter is responsible for many things here at Dude, like the Dude Counter and the Dude Locator. Now she's gotten me hooked on blogthings. I took one test (what song should I strip to) but I shouldn't share the results because this is a sort of a family show. So instead, I'll share this one...

What kind of chocolate are you?

You are Milk Chocolate

A total dreamer, you spend most of your time with your head in the clouds.
You often think of the future, and you are always working toward your ideal life.
Also nostelgic, you rarely forget a meaningful moment... even those from long ago.

What Kind of Chocolate Are You?

WHY?

2006-04-28T19:17:00.000-07:00

When my dryer rips holes in my clothes, why can't it do something productive and lucrative, like rip a picture of Jesus or Elvis into my sheets? Let's visit that thought for a moment. I could sell the ripped sheets on eBay and make oodles of money like the dude that sold the grilled cheese with Jesus' face on it. That would be WAY cool. Then, the herds of the faithful would flock to see my blessed dryer. I'd let them try to make their own inspirational ripped laundry. Of course, it would ONLY work if they used MY dirty laundry, so I could have a little Tom Sawyer thing going with the huge laundry pile. Then my kids could sell cookies and lemonade to get extra money. It would be one heck of a good time.

But no, not in MY dryer. ::sigh::: I guess I have to go buy new sheets. I hate that dryer.

Phone calls you WANT to get...

2006-04-27T07:09:00.000-07:00

I get so sick of answering the phone, and a stupid fax machine is beeping on the other end. So I was thinking (yes, I do that occasionally), what would be some phone calls I'd love to get? Here are a few, chime in with your own ideas of phone bliss (and no, I'm not talking phone sex, unless that's what you want).

1) From a big, NY publisher: "We realize you're swamped and feeling a touch insecure at this moment about submitting your requested work, so we thought we'd take the pressure off you and just offer you the sale. And because we know how you envy publisher Lunch authors that get more than a 'nice deal', you're going to get to list this sale in the 'HOT DAMN, OBSCENE AMOUNT OF MONEY' section."

2) From the dr's office: "I'm sorry, but the lab results are positive for this dangerous, debilitating disease. You're going to have to eat your body weight in chocolate each month to remain healthy and alive."

3)From the telemarketers: "To show our deepest sympathy for interrupting you during Oprah, we're sending you 'Mamma's Little Helper!' absolutely free of charge. He's a Chippendale-esque man, hot, hunky and ready to wash that kitchen floor, and anything else you request!"

4) From the husband: "I realize how WRONG I was about your coffee addiction--I'm giving you an unlimited Dunkin Donuts charge card--drink to your heart's desire!"

5) From SZ the critique partner: "I'd love to have you review more than just the opening of my latest story. I realize you must be sick of looking at the same 300 words. Over, and over, and over..."

My bad...

2006-04-26T09:41:00.000-07:00

Athena, the Goddess of Wisdom, has told me it's Van Gogh that lost his ear. She didn't know, though, that he was friends with Hemingway, which is why I picked him in the first place to make my point about spell check. I figured Hemingway would have chopped off something, too, but after his buddy did it he said, "No way in HELL."

Stealing blog ideas...

2006-04-26T09:02:00.000-07:00

Poodle fact of the day: The breed is actually German in origin, and the names comes from the name Pudel, which means puddle, for water dog.

Because I'm supposed to be researching poodles (see, I learned ONE THING) I'm stealing an idea from my friend Mary F over at Mary's Bandwagon because she said, 'use it on your blog.'

So here's 10 things to know about my writing (this should be an eye-opener for all involved):

1)In a written document, it's a given that I'll have at least 6 things spelled wrong, and spell check will catch 4 of them.

2) I wasn't meant to be a short contemporary writer--I can't have my characters say hello in less than 50,000 words, never mind have them meet, have sex, break up and resolve their problems with a satisfying ending. Of course, I could use my favorite salutation--DUDE!--and get right to the...er...point? Yes, SZ, I'm thinking about WINKIES.

3) I will write/edit anything for money. Case point, my second ghostwritten book was about modifying import cars (dude, pimping the RIDE!). "Miss Editor, you want me to add a cowboy pregnant with an alien's baby, keep it all a secret, and give the cowboy a case of amnesia to boot? In 80,000 words? For money? Yes, Miss Editor! My pleasure!"

4) If I decided to be a writer in the past, I too would have hacked off a body part like that painter dude (Monet? I know Julie will correct me on this). And you know why I would hack off a body part??? NO SPELLCHECK. I failed my high school term paper because of my typing skills.

5) I have to say NO to research at times, because I get sucked into the void of knowledge. It's even worse now with the 'net. I'll start out on one subject (oh, like POODLES) and discover the meaning of merkin (if you don't know what it is, look it up! It's way interesting.) FYI, I thieved my high school honors English class dictionary because I couldn't bear to part with it (shhh, don't tell Mr. Bryant).

6) I like to write at night. Of course, the lure of Jimmy Kimmel is too great, so I end up ditching the writing at midnight, so I'm better off going to bed at a decent hour.

7) I have the best damned ideas EVER, until I put them on paper and submit them to an editor, where it is deemed I write poignant, contrived crap (my interpretation).

8) Interestingly enough, my first book had GMC (goal, motivation and conflict) for all of my characters, even the evil dude. However, it was a light read of 680 pages, and did I mention the contrived crap part?

9) I have always written paranormal stories, even before I KNEW what paranormal was, and before it was the hot, in thing. NO, I don't do vampires. They are scary. There is NOTHING SEXY about having your blood sucked out. I have my blood drawn every month, and I don't ever recall wanting to jump the tech.

10) I have no gift for poetry, so be relieved you won't have to deal with that. Maybe an occasional limerick, but that's about it.

Man's best friend

2006-04-25T08:53:00.000-07:00

I'm doing research on poodles right now, for this juicy ghostwritten non-fiction book deal I scored. Did you know that poodles were used to retrieve arrows and truffles in the olden days? And no, not the cake truffle in a deep dish Athena (she likes that stuff, uses her Tim Horton donuts to make truffles) but the elusive mushroom that grows under the dirt.

So that got me to thinking... What has Corey, the 100 lb senile dog, brought me in his 11 years of service to the family?

Well...A zucchini. When he was 6 months old he brought a zucchini to the house site (we were building our house, and only had a foundation at the time. I was master cement maker, because when I say we were building, I don't mean hire a contractor and bitch about the bills). He must have got the zucchini from my FIL's garden. How he loved that thing, carried it everywhere until he dropped down the cinderblock foundation, never to be seen again. For weeks after, he'd go to that corner of the foundation and peer into the wall longingly until we finally framed in the house and the zucchini was lost forever.

Then there was the time he brought me paper cups. We were doing summer riding camp, and the little angels would leave their paper cups, with their names on them, all over the yard. Corey would have rather hunkered down on the lawn and ripped them to shreds, but instead (because he is a smart dog at times) he'd bring them to me and I'd shriek holy ever-loving madness all over the place.

Lastly, he's brought me a deer antler. A little tiny thing, but it has 3 prongs and it's very cute. This is probably the one thing he didn't really want to share, because to him it's just a cool bone and well, we don't share cool bones. But I snagged it, fearing he'd found a chicken bone somewhere. It now lives on the top of the TV because I've never seen any protocol on how to display 6 inches of deer antler.

But I'd love to have a truffle dog some day. Of course, we don't HAVE truffles here, but maybe if I pretend he's a guide dog, he can go into the supermarket and find me one. Until then, we're happily stuck with a zucchini, paper cup and antler retrieving dog.

RIP Summertime...

2006-04-23T19:11:00.000-07:00

Today at 6:30 we had a funeral for Summertime the frog--it was a beautiful, toilet-side ceremony. She was a cherished member of our family for the past month and is survived by two fin pigs (Zoom and Multi the calico goldfish) and her owner, Alexa. She will be sadly missed. In lieu of flowers, please send checks to the "Say NO to Froglegs" foundation sponsored by Kermit the Frog.

Ailing Summertime

2006-04-23T07:39:00.000-07:00

I have a frog in my bathroom.

Now, before you think that's code for some kinky thing (Athena the goddess of wisdom is also a pervert, so you have to set this stuff straight) the frog is real--it's on death's door--but it's a real, sorta-live, albino African frog named Summertime.

So why is it in my bathroom? It's in a little sick frog bowl, the top covered with plastic wrap with a few holes in it because the thing was in the fish tank and the goldfish (a.k.a. the fin pigs) were attacking it. So we took it out so it could die in peace.

Now, to make matters worse, Summertime the frog is owned by my five year old daughter. Most children, you could sneak off to the pet store and replace it with a healthier frog and say, "Look! He's feeling better!" and then have a party and eat some chocolate cake. This is not the sort of child you can do that with because if I got caught, all hell would break loose, and I'd rather be attacked by killer bees.

A little background to make you believe. First, St. Peter or someone behind the pearly gates saw that this was to be my last child and said, "Bring me the Special Soul." And thus, my child was born. Don't believe me? Read on:

1) at 20 mos, tossed her clothes at me and proclaimed, "I am NOT getting dressed, God dammit!" Mind you, all spoken in perfect, crystal clear English.
2) At 2 years she was restricted from watching 'Shrek' because she called her brother an Ass for having a tantrum. And yes, when I questioned her, she knew exactly what she was calling him. At 2 she also gained an imaginary friend named Sunny and an imaginary teacher named Miss Daisy, who is also the leader of the Girl Scouts (all 150 of them) that meet in my back yard. Oh, and there's the imaginary 'bad girl' named Paynie. I had to talk to her imaginary mother about the foul language Paynie uses on the bus to and from Girl Scouts.
3) After the first day of nursery school she put her hands on her hips and demanded, "Why didn't you tell me we had upper case AND lower case letters in the alphabet????" I know, I'm a horrid mother.
4) When I told her she couldn't marry her brother, she informed me she had called God on the phone and he said she could marry him if she wanted to, so there. How can we argue with that logic?

She has some great points, too, like a love of sweeping the kitchen floor. She's also cute as the dickens, which is God's way of keeping her safe. How can you torture something so danged CUTE?

So, the point is, Summertime needs to get well enough so he can go back into the big tank and terrorize the fin pigs. I'll keep you all posted. I'm sure you're hopping with anticipation to know what happens to the frog in my bathroom.

Stay tuned!

DUDES!

2006-04-22T08:03:00.000-07:00

I'm BLOGGING! Never thought I'd see the day were I actually blogged something. I'm not one to jump on new technology--I mean, I just burned my first CD last month. You can't move too quickly on this new technology crap. I mean, look how long the 8-track lasted...

I'll jump in (bravely) by sharing my GH scores. For those that don't know, the Golden Heart contest sponsored by RWA (Romance Writers of America) is THE contest. It's the most expensive, the most nerve-wracking and all you get is a tiny sheet of paper telling you your scores and your grouping within the masses. Of course, if you final, lots of good things happen, but I've decided I have a better chance of getting hit by lightning than making the final grouping at this point.

So drumroll please.... The scores are (on a scale of 1-9): 8, 8, 8.2, 8.3, and 5, total of 37.50, second quarter. OH, and I entered paranormal this year, with the addition of a ghost and butt-kicking angels to my book...Which means my poor ghosts were battling against vampires and werewolves and other dark paranormal type creatures that my gentle soul just doesn't get. But that's a whole different barrel of apples.

Now, I'm ripped about that 5. My goal for the contest was to launch myself OUT of the freaking bottom half, where I had resided with the other bottom feeders for several years (no offense to you bottom feeders--I like you and I wish I could bring you all with me to the top. Honest). My first goal was to get something other than straight 6's. But that damned 5...Granted, it's not a 6, but it was 'just' enought to kept me OUT of the very elusive top quarter by .60. FYI, 5 used to be my favorite number, but not anymore. I'm changing it to 5.60.

So that's that until next November when the GH madness begins yet again. Now I'm off now to pay a deposit for the boy child's birthday party at this go-kart, laser tag, token place that will suck the change out of my pockets faster than a cockroach on a restaurant floor. God help me. Of course, the kids have to LIVE to go to the go-kart/token place (they slept at grandma's last night, need I say more). At the rate they are going, I may get a quiet afternoon alone.